


All There

by GretchenSinister



Series: My Top 20 Short Gen Fics [13]
Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Gen, Revenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-06
Updated: 2019-05-06
Packaged: 2020-02-26 22:56:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18726532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GretchenSinister/pseuds/GretchenSinister
Summary: Original Prompt: "The Guardians have defeated Pitch, but not without heavy loses, and in the end one of their own is lost for good. In the aftermath, and enraged Jack goes in search of revenge. He finds Pitch, who has grown pitifully weak, and dispenses justice as he sees fit.-Up to the author weather or not non-con is involved."There’s no non-con here.Takes place mid-movie, actually, because that’s when, for all the Guardians know, Sandy really is dead. Jack leaves the North Pole on his own mission. Implied violence.





	All There

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on Tumblr on 7/27/2015.

Jack isn’t asked to join the others at the memorial, and, well, he understands. That’s a Guardian thing, and he said no to being a Guardian not even a day ago. But he needs to do  _something_. He needs to do something because he wasn’t able to do anything, do  _enough_ , when Sandy  
  
when Sandy  
  
when Sandy  
  
Jack feels like every muscle in his body is trying to contract at once. It  _hurts_  and he feels sick—if he had eaten a piece of the fruitcake North had offered him he would have thrown it up by now. Sandy is dead. He was taken over by nightmare sand and—  
  
Jack remembers the cloud of black sand blowing away, thin and clearly nothing but dust, following Pitch to his lair. He grips the edge of the window seat as hard as he can because what is the other option? Screaming?  
  
He stays there for long minutes, trying to breathe steadily and failing. He doesn’t need to, of course, but it helps him feel more secure. Now, though, the memory of the impact of Pitch’s arrow freezes him over and over, only to leave him gasping like a drowning person when he can finally put himself into motion again.  
  
It’s probably for the best he’s not at the memorial. He couldn’t—the way he’s feeling isn’t suited for ceremony.  
  
But he still needs to do something.  
  
He looks down and finds that he’s torn a chunk out of the window seat without even realizing it. He unclenches his hand and splinters cascade to the floor.  
  
It had been ages since he did something like that. He had almost thought he couldn’t, anymore. That being invisible had made him weak. But that’s not quite right, is it? It hadn’t made Pitch weak enough. And so, well…maybe it hadn’t weakened Jack, either. It had just been so rare that Jack wanted to destroy something.  
  
He looks down at the splinters. Some of them have gold paint on them from the decorative trim on the seat. Jack bends down and picks one up.  
  
No. That can’t work. Not even for the sake of a proper burial. But then again, it’s an explanation that’ll sound a bit nicer, even if it doesn’t fool anyone.  
  
Jack, who still needs to do something, takes a sword and a small bag from the Pole.  
  
He remembers where the sand blew when Pitch left.  
  
***  
  
 _I don’t think you’re going to bleed,_  he could have said, but didn’t, when he snuck down the tunnel below the broken bedframe. He doesn’t want this to be a fight, he doesn’t want there to be banter. He doesn’t want there to be any chance for Pitch to have fun anymore.  
  
***  
  
Jack has always wished people would believe in him, or just believe him, but he finds he’s glad that Pitch doesn’t believe he’ll do what he came here to do. It helps, too, that Pitch doesn’t believe he’ll do what he came here to do in front of all Tooth’s fairies. But why would their cruel imprisonment do anything but spur him on?  
  
Pitch thinks he can toy with him. He thinks he can tease him. He thinks that Jack is just so reckless and charming with that sword he barely knows how to use.  
  
He thinks wrong. And he is more surprised than anything at how fast Jack turns out to be. The expression remains on his face for a moment before it crumbles away.  
  
Jack’s right. Pitch doesn’t bleed.  
  
***  
  
Jack drops the bag in front of the others. The mouth falls open just enough for the glitter of the sand inside to be seen. As for Jack, he’s covered from head to foot in gritty black dust. The only thing bright about him now is the shine of his eyes. “I’m not done,” he says. “You—you can see that I’m not done. He’s—I—I’m sure it’s all there. All of it. I have to…” he drops the sword with a clatter, and turns away. He’s looking for a larger bag now, that’s all. And he’s listening for the others to protest, to tell him no, to ask him what he’s done. But they must know, they must guess.  
  
None of them try to stop him.  
  
For their sakes, that’s probably the best. 

**Author's Note:**

> Comments from Tumblr:
> 
> tejoxys said: Whoa. The repetition of “when Sandy” at the beginning, agh D: Very effective.
> 
> bowlingforgerbils said: damn that’s cold. I love it.


End file.
